You’re not special.
That realization was the hardest pill for me to swallow post-divorce.
I would read or listen about the depths of pain others experienced through divorce and silently believe that my pain had to be different.
And I had plenty of evidence to back up my belief. After all, how many 16 year relationships end with a text, fraud and bigamy?
It was a great excuse to delay the real work of healing for a time; by focusing on the sordid details, I gave myself a reason to ignore the collective wisdom from the universal experience of love and loss. On the surface, I would graciously accept guidance and advice while tacitly believing that it didn’t apply to me.
Because I thought that my situation, my experience, my pain was special.
I focused on what set me apart rather than what bound me to the common.
I thought I was special. And that belief was both affirming and alienating, giving blessing to the pain and isolating me from others. It’s a lonely place, sorted into a group of one by the particulars of your story. The blessings of excuses soon wear out their welcome and the focus on the details begins to feel like an un-welcomed quarantine.
My unexpected guide out of the isolation chamber of my perceived specialness came in the form of books. Fiction, mostly, and in many cases, not even particularly good fiction. As has always been my habit, I made a weekly library trip and loaded up on whatever was available – mystery, thriller, historical and even some that could be classified as chic lit.
And I read.
And, as is to be expected, my own recent experiences altered the lens I used to view these fictitious worlds; I related to characters who were facing some unimaginable trauma and were suddenly tasked with the seemingly impossible assignment of rebuilding their lives.
And I learned that when it comes to pain, the details don’t matter.
I empathized with characters facing illness, losing loved ones in myriad ways, dealing with natural and manmade disasters and even with those experiencing what would be classified by most as a minor loss. I related to the antagonists and protagonists, men and women, children and elderly and even the occasional non-human. In almost every story, I found elements shared with my own.
My focus blurred, editing out the details and seeing instead the ever-present themes of love and loss, of fear and shame and of hope and persistence.
I wasn’t special.
And I welcomed that realization.
It meant I wasn’t alone. That others had faced similar and thrived. That even though this was a new path to me, it was well-worn and well-marked.
Pain isn’t a solitary experience and healing is not a solo journey.
And even though you are unique and awesome in your own way, when it comes to suffering, you’re not special.
Rather than focus on what sets your pain and experience apart, find comfort in what binds you to others.
You’re not special. And you’re also not alone.
23 thoughts on “You’re Not Special”
I used to think the same thing! My details (of course) were/are different from yours. It’s been less than a month since we ended our 24 year marriage. He was abusive. Mainly verbal. Not uncommon… BUT for 20 of those years he was a Pastor. (Not so common)
I believed that no one understood what I was going through because of the details… I honestly do not know when or where I finally let down that wall. But I am finding so many people surrounding me who KNOW what I’m feeling and going through. This is an excellent post. Thank you for writing it.
And thank you for reading and sharing your story:)
Oh, and group hug back
I love that line “you’re not special and you’re not alone”. I think it’s human nature to think that one personal pin is unique. We can sympathize with other. We may even think we can sympathize with other; but that intimate understanding of pain (and even happier emotions) is something we can only fully understand through personal experience. It’s just the way we’re made.
Sadly for me, my escape was alcohol for at time, but I later turned to exercise.
One of the best things probably did was joining a local social club. As fun as the drinking and socializing was, meeting people with similar experiences who just wants to “get back out there” was the biggest eye-opener for me.
I’m glad you found a healthy outlet. It’s a blow to ego to realize you’re not alone in the pain but it is so comforting.
What a statement of liberation…who would have ever thought that recognizing we’re not special was what would ultimately set us free!
I know, kinda backwards, huh? 🙂
Thank you for this post. This is a point I need to embrace; I wasn’t special to my ex; and the resulting pain isn’t special either.
Thank for sharing your experiences.
And now celebrate the ways you ARE special:)
Lisa, stop being in my head and writing out my thoughts before I can! 🙂 I will have to link this article into my next article because you far more beautifully articulate what I was trying to communicate. I swear that article was written before I read this. I promise you it has been with my editor for weeks. Love, and group hugs to everyone who has fallen off the special pedestal and joined the ranks of humanity.
Too funny:) I promise I still haven’t perfected my mind-reading skills:)))
I was wrong and you wrote your article long before me, so I have linked your article in and given you the credit.
I love reading multiple takes on similar issues. It adds depth and character to any discussion. 🙂
Hi Lisa, my article has been published on the Good Men Project and I reference you twice, and link to two of your articles!
I saw that:) Good points! Shared it on my FB this morning!
Thank you Lisa
And thank you!:)